


One last chance

by my_thestral



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:01:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6143815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_thestral/pseuds/my_thestral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy is about to get:<br/>a. married... or <br/>b. his one last chance at Ron Weasley<br/>Pick one... the right one, Draco</p>
            </blockquote>





	One last chance

“I just meant – I might not have time anymore after tomorrow.”  
  
“That's the same as saying you didn't give two shits about meeting me again, Malfoy. You probably think me dafter than a Mountain Troll on mushrooms, but even I know how to read _this_ particular message between the lines. You might as well be upfront for once and say it: this little… fling, afair, whatever – is over between us.”  
  
“I didn’t say it was over,” the blond man hissed at his redheaded companion still sprawled leisurely on the bed they once again managed to demolish. “ _You_ don’t get to tell me when it’s over, _I’ll_ say when it’s over. Besides…” he paid a wistful look to the young man stretched haphazardly across the crumpled, abused sheets, with those long, muscled limbs still covered in a thin sheen of sweat from their athletic, desperate fucking, and he swallowed a hopeless curse quietly. Weasley was a bloody dream come true. Why the fuck did he have to look like sin personified on the night before his wedding day?!  
  
“... I don’t want it to be over,” he heard himself say quietly. Fuck him… Why was he so bloody weak? For some reason, fucking Weasley proved to be addictive and he couldn’t quite bear the thought of never having… _this_ , whatever they had, again.  
  
“Oh, and what am I supposed to do, while you bang your lovely new wife across the Mediterranean? Sit tight and wait humbly for your majesty to come back and perhaps, in time, feel nostalgic enough to get in the mood and decide to have his brains fucked out by a grateful forever-side kick?!”  
  
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Weasley,” the blond squeezed through his gritted teeth, but in the next moment the tall Gryffindor was upon him in all his naked glory, pressing him against the wall, and Draco felt himself grow weak in the knees. He _loved_ to see Weasley all riled up. His stormy blue eyes got a dark, violet tinge and Draco found his throat tightening at the stunning sight.  
  
“ _You_ found _me_ after I broke up with Hermione!” the redhead sunk his finger angrily in his chest. “ _You_ got me drunk, _you_ dragged me to bed, and you’ve been back for more _every.single.day_ since. For months now.”  
  
“I don’t recall you objecting none too loudly,” the blond tried, but was instantly silenced when their mouths smashed together in a violent, hungry kiss bordering on pain… that just happened to embody every wet dream he was ever going to have. He heard himself moan with embarrassing need, but it’s not like he could help himself. This was one field of expertise Ron was superior in. He kissed like a god... he fucked like the redheaded, hot-blooded demon he was… and he didn’t lie: Draco had been back for more every day… like an addicted idiot he had become. He had no idea how to give it up.  
  
“I make you scream,” Ron whispered into his mouth before another delicious assault of that hungry, possessive tongue melted what little brain Draco was left with. “I make you beg… and yelp my name when you’re coming. And you make me scream as well… and… you make me want more than this. It’s the way we’ve become. So, this is how it’s going to go down… I’m going to give you one chance before it’s all done tomorrow to change your mind… One chance – or you’ll never touch me again… I swear to god, Malfoy. One chance.”  
  
And with these words he was gone. He didn’t even bother with the clothes. And Draco just collapsed by the wall, staring into the blank space, not seeing a thing, while his fingers came to touch the bruised, tender lips still screaming for more of the warm mouth that always made  him feel as if he was the one.  
*  
“Has anyone asked to see me?”  
  
“No, Master Malfoy. The guests have been arriving throughout the morning, but no one had asked specifically for you.”  
  
“Draco, darling, is something the matter? This must be the umpteenth time you’ve asked this particular question! Are you expecting someone?” Narcissa Malfoy moved elegantly across the room towards her son, who was standing in front of the window that gave him the best oversight of the large entrance gate, open for the occasion. He looked splendid in the elegant black robes with a sapphire lining, especially designed for the wedding by the best Italian masters of the trade. He would have made a glorious sight for any proud mother – if it wasn’t for something in his restless eyes that made him look utterly miserable.  
  
“No, Mother… there’s no one. I suppose I’m just nervous. It is for life, you know,” her son replied with a small forced smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and she was more certain than ever that something was not quite right.  
  
“It is. And this is the very thing that should make you happy… if this is what you want,” she replied as calmly as she could. He was clearly working through something in his head, and once she had gotten him back from the war safe and sound, she promised herself she will never again try to run his life again. He was free to make his own choices – but until this morning he had done nothing to indicate that he objected to the marriage, arranged with a beautiful and graceful Astoria Greengrass from an old and respected pureblood family. But now he seemed troubled and her heart sunk.  
  
“Whatever is the matter, darling?” she asked gently and as he glanced at her with his restless grey eyes as if he wanted to trust her, but just didn’t have a heart to do so – she knew instantly.  
  
“Is there someone else?” she asked and waited for his answer with a baited breath.  
  
“Yes… there was. Not anymore. I broke it off… last night,” he finally confessed and her heart squeezed miserably in her chest.  
  
“Oh, Draco… darling, why didn’t you say something? We wouldn’t have forced your hand, you know that. You’re free to choose, my love.”  
  
“It’s not… you wouldn’t… not when you saw who it was,” he said, sounding defeated.  
  
“I see,” she said quietly. “But if you let them go, then how come you’ve been asking about any visitors that might have come just for you all morning, darling? I imagine there is something you neglected to tell me.”  
  
“Well… yes. He promised to give me one more chance to reconsider,” Draco said quietly and Narcissa couldn’t stop herself from gasping. _He._ Her son said “he”. His lover was _a man_. Merlin help them all. This marriage had no chance. But she couldn’t focus on that now. Her son needed her.  
  
“And have you… reconsidered?” she asked carefully.  
  
“He never gave me a chance,” her beautiful, sad son answered curtly. “I thought, perhaps…”  
  
“… it was going to be a last minute chance?”  Narcissa completed his thought, and he nodded miserably.  
  
“But now we’re out of time,” he spoke quietly, as if defeated. “They’ll be here to fetch me any time. I suppose it’s time to end this… day-dreaming. Come, Mother, I’ve got a bride to make happy.”  
  
“Darling…” she hurried after him when he headed with a long, adamant stride towards the Grand Hall, ornately decorated for the occasion. _“But what about your happiness?”_ she wanted to ask him – but it seemed she had missed her chance. She was about to see her son getting married to the wrong person, and her heart broke at the thought.  
  
She took her assigned place in the first row next to an uncommonly pleased-looking Lucius, and she almost wanted to smack him across the back of his head for being so unjustly happy. _Your son is about to enter a life of misery,_ she felt like shouting, but it wouldn’t do in front of a small million of guests, who filled the Grand Hall to the brim.  
  
Draco was standing at the front, as beautiful and as still as a stone statue, and he barely looked alive. The bride was due to arrive down the improvised aisle any moment now, and there was no time left. “ _A miracle,_ _Merlin, please,”_ Narcissa thought desperately. “ _My son needs a miracle._ ”  
  
And at that moment there was a loud thump on the window that startled everyone. Draco seemed to have woken up from a dream abruptly. He moved towards the window with speed that told Narcissa with absolute clarity how desperate for some kind of intervention he was. Ignoring the excited muttering that splashed through the lines of the guests, he opened the window and something… _someone_ , actually… zoomed near and stopped in front of it. Which was quite an achievement on its own, considering the Grand Hall was in the second floor.  
  
“Weasley…. are you raving mad?!” her son spoke, sounding breathless, but there was such elation in his voice Narcissa had never heard before, and his eyes were literally glowing in awe and wonder.  
  
Weasley… oh, dear, no wonder Draco would not say a thing!  
  
The tall young man with a physique of a professional Quidditch player and fiery red, wind-swept hair – undoubtedly a Weasley – was hovering outside on a broom, and he offered the groom-to-be a blissful, breathtaking smile.  
  
“One chance, I said – and here it is. You need to jump, Malfoy.”  
  
“Merlin, Weasel… you really are out of your bloody mind, aren’t you!? You can’t just come here _\-  on a broom! –_ and ask me…” Draco’s voice withered away into a complete silence and Narcissa held her breath with the rest of them. But someone didn’t.  
  
“Don’t you even _think_ it, Draco! Get away from the window, you… you, dim-witted monster! How _dare_ you trespass on my property?!”  
  
Lucius got up from his seat energetically and moved to intervene, but the redheaded scoundrel would not be intimidated:  
  
“Not your property, technically speaking, is it? Unless you own the air as well…” he pointed out matter-of-factly, and Narcissa decided she liked him. He had spirit.  
  
But it wasn’t going to be enough in the view of Lucius’s wrath. She sighed quietly. She better do this quickly.  
  
With a quick flick of her wand she petrified Lucius’s gait when he was all but a few steps from the window. She knew it would come to that as soon as she heard the name Weasley. Her husband turned to look at her with furious eyes, glowing from under a darkened brow, but she simply tilted her head towards him elegantly, and said coolly:  
  
“His choice. We promised.”  
  
Draco who never took his eyes off the redheaded menace even when his father was approaching, now turned his head to look at her. And that lone, overwhelming emotion, the sparkling silver _want_ in his eyes broke her heart. He looked every bit like a child who had the most precious Christmas gift at his arm’s reach – but was not sure if he was allowed to open it.  
  
“I suppose you wouldn’t be the first Black who ever eloped,” she told him in a voice that barely hid the tremor underneath. “You must choose what is right for you, Draco. Never mind your father… he’s made plenty of wrong choices himself – and this is your life at stake.”  
  
His head slowly turned towards the redheaded silhouette, who came to fetch him from the skies like a hero of old. From where she stood, she could hear a tone of despair in his whisper:  
  
“One last chance… Draco. Jump!”  
  
And her gorgeous blond son suddenly flashed a stunning, radiant smile, and nodded slowly. In the next moment he was standing on a windowsill – and he jumped.  
  
She could hear his ringing, happy laughter long after they’ve disappeared into a beautiful Sunday morning. She closed her eyes and smiled. She _loved_ seeing her son happy. And surely, Lucius had nothing to complain about. His son had picked a pureblood, has he not?

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something to celebrate Ron Weasley's b-day - and I used my only two free hours to do so. :) It's easily the sloppiest thing I've ever written, but it totally counts as a celebratory... thingy. ;) You can't tell me different! :)


End file.
